Novocain
by Cast0Away
Summary: Left to his own devices Harry Potter, now named Garron James Darce, discovers he can do things that the mindless wrecks at the orphanage couldn't hope to do. He's smart. He's cunning. He's Slytherin. But most of all Harry Potter is dark and no one is standing in his way from taking over.


~ The Beginning~

The air was frigid that night.

A small and neglected babe was placed on the frozen ground, swaddled in a thin and tattered blanket and nothing else. He cried and cried for hours on end without relief until a large iron door opened and a harsh looking woman appeared. Her eyes and hair were a cold grey and her face was worn and wrinkled with age and stress of her job. She looked down at this small lump with midnight hair and reluctantly bent down and cradled the child in her arms. He was blue from the chill of the air and snuggled into her warmth. The old woman smiled at this minuscule bundle in her embrace and brought him into the old manor.

The manor was an elaborate affair. The exterior was embellished with vines and was of an almost ancient brick. On the front stoop there was a single black and gold sign that read Godwin's Home for Children. It was an ornate building that exuded class in everything, even down to the rugs. The ornateness, however, was betrayed by the demons inside. There were masses of children running around the great mansion, screaming around and fighting each other to the few pieces of furniture that was present. They were loud and boisterous, and yet one look at the stern woman at the door and they were quiet in an instant with a hint of a Pavlovian instinct.

"Quickly children. Make way. We have a new one."

Her voice was harsh and barely comprehensible, yet, the children parted like the Red Sea making way for the dame of the house. She started up the large wooden staircase and trails of wayward children followed her toward a small and decrepit room just at the top of the precipice. It was bare in all aspects, only having a small mattress and an even smaller bookshelf. There was a large window that looked out into the garden and the surrounding forest. The floor was covered with a worn down but comfortable enough carpet and a yellowed lamp sat atop a nightstand that was covered in childlike graffiti.

The dame set the child onto the bare bed and examined him excruciatingly. Midnight hair and soft ivory skin, even as a baby, the child looked like royalty. She had no idea whatsoever as to what she would name the child (as she was not given anything by which she could identify him). She looked at him thoroughly and thought on the dilemma. Suddenly, a name befitting a royal, came into her mind as if whispered by a spirit.

Garron James Darce. The guardian of darkness.

It fit him somehow, as if it was meant for him from the beginning. From the bottom of her heart the old woman knew that this boy was destined for greatness, it exuded from him in a sort of glow. The boy - now Garron- was surrounded by the children of the orphanage who looked at him in a sort of awe. The tiny thing had already captured the attention of the devils that resided in the manor. As young as he was he knew something was happening, he smiled and in that moment the purest of white snow began to fall from the sky.

 _ **FIVE YEARS LATER**_

Garron, at the ripe age of six, was an imp sent down upon the manor from the deepest pits of hell. His raven hair and noble appearance was a facade that lured any being whom laid their eyes upon his form into their doom. The boy was a monster of the worst imaginable sort - the kind that people never expected and happily walked with.

On yet another cold day in the middle of an English autumn, the young boy ventured into the wood surrounding the manor. Walking quickly with a determined purpose, the boy marched for what seemed like hours. Until finally, there he stood in the midst of a small clearing, taking in all of the greenery and the flora and fauna that lay claim to this part of the forest. A million leaves fluttered to the ground with every immensely strong gust that happened to blow by. A small doe and its mother lay just on the edge peering at the silent intruder.

Garron smiled at this place, it was peaceful. He didn't get much of that at the manor. The manor was a place of yelling and crowds of hellions who couldn't add one plus one to make two, he was above them - all of them. Why must he be kept at this hell? He was six years old for god's sake, surely he could take take of himself. But, he digresses, if he leaves who would he play with? He needed something to stimulate him, lest he become dreadfully bored. Garron looked to his watch and then the sun which hung low in the sky, it was almost time to leave. Sighing heavily, the young boy started toward the direction he came from. It was a half hour before he had to take a break on the trail.

Suddenly, he heard a voice crying out, "Stay away, you blasted thing stay away. Get away from me you insolent brute!"

Being a curious child he moved toward the screaming to find a snake hissing at a duck near the pond. Though the duck did not seemed that phased at the screaming. In fact, it didn't seem to understand at all. Was it just Garron who understood what the little snake was saying? And that also raised the question of, how exactly could he understand the thing? He didn't know and frankly he didn't exactly care at the moment. He approached the small angry garden snake.

"You do realize it doesn't understand you right? Also it's in the water, I highly doubt it's going to get out of it just for you." Garron spoke and behind him the duck quacked unintelligently only proving his point. The snakes head shifted towards him and seemed to raise an eyebrow even though it had none.

"And _you_ realize that you are speaking to a snake correct?" The snake was very sassy, and Garron was beginning to think this could end up being a marvelous day.

"I do." Garron spoke with a smile. "It did come as a bit of a shock though. My name is Garron, little snake."

"Oh look, it has manners. Name's Keerin - don't wear it out childe." The snake said, punctuating it with a hiss. Keerin slithered over to wear the boy was standing and looked him dead in the eye.

"Well, I truly must go little snake. See you again sometime?" The raven haired boy walked back onto the trail he was previously on before all this fuss. By the time the boy returned home the sun was well past the horizon and the old woman glanced at his vague form from the window.

She ushered Garron into the ancient house with a shrill voice demanding to know where had he been. To which he replied "out". Needless to say that answer was not very well received by the mistress of the house. She smacked him upside his head and tugged his ear until he was deposited inside of his room. After doing so she turned her back to him quickly and shuffled out of the dreary room.

"That boy is unnatural. I just know it." She spoke quietly to herself while trotting down the steep and rickety stairwell.

Inside the tiniest room at the top of the stairs, Garron shifted and turned in his bed. Wondering to himself what the next day would bring and if he would ever see the small garden snake again. Not that it mattered, nothing to was ever permanent or hopeful in this peculiar life of his. Nevertheless he shifted until he was comfortable (or as comfortable as one could get in a place such as this) and drifted off into a restless sleep. Never once taking notice of the owl perched on the tree just outside his window sill.


End file.
